by Alma Boykin
“So I don’t scare people?” Rada quipped.
The reptile dropped back onto her forefeet. “No, my lord, to protect what’s left of the eye. You seem to have lost sensitivity and blinking reaction and something could easily strike you, causing more trauma before you realize it.”
The mammal remembered Master Thomas saying almost the identical words and she ducked a little. “Very well, Healer Shay. I’ll have the Mistress of the Robes see what she can come up with.” The Mistress had charge of all sorts of fabrics, backings, stiffeners, and notions and could create something workable faster than Rada could.
“Good. And don’t hesitate to call me if you start having problems in the other eye,” the Healer ordered, seeing herself out as Rada sat at her desk and shook her head at it all. She opened a drawer to get out a set of writing sticks and caught a flash of light from the mirror she kept in the desk for checking her hair if she got called to Court after a bout or work session. Might as well see how bad it is. She ran through an exercise to settle her nerves and then picked up the mirror and looked.
The Wanderer stared at her reflection, her stomach churning. She’d never been pretty, but now! Now I know what the Debt Collector looks like, Rada thought as she surveyed the remains of her face. Where a silver-grey eye had once been, a blood-speckled, eye-sized mass of white scar tissue confronted the world. Below it, the scars from the initial injury and the surgery that had replaced shattered bone with a semi-flexible ceramisteel honeycomb glowed red against her pale skin. Rada closed the blind eye and the lid concealed some of the damage, but the scars remained, as did the livid bruises on both sides of her face.
“That’s the price for failure,” she informed herself quietly in Trader. “Instead of dying like you should have, you get to carry the evidence of your debt for all the universe to see.” Rada put the mirror back and began sorting through the documents awaiting her signature, trying to lose herself in paperwork.
Although she’d been away for four years, the nobles and Palace servants remembered what Rada had looked like and word of her injury spread like wildfire. As a result, Rada wasn’t surprised when she was summoned into the Imperial presence the next day. She was, however, taken aback at her first sight of King-Emperor See-kali and had to bite her tongue to keep from exclaiming at his terrible state. He’d gained tens of kilos and moved awkwardly, his joints obviously hurting him a great deal. His skin looked oily and his muddy green eyes were dull and listless. Rada didn’t need to be a Healer herself to know that the King-Emperor was gravely ill.
“Rise, Lord Ni Drako,” he wheezed, and she got to her feet, five paces from the throne. He studied the Lord Defender. “You have been injured.”
“Yes, Imperial Majesty.”
“We understand that Our Healer has examined you and pronounced you fit. Is this correct?” He sounded skeptical and Rada didn’t blame him.
“It is correct, Imperial Majesty. I must guard the eye somewhat, and am learning how to compensate for my reduced vision, but the Healers have found no cause for me not to resume my duties.” Although they probably would if you asked them to, or if I gave them a chance, she added silently.
The old reptile coughed, then nodded. “Very well. You are dismissed.” Rada started to bow, then froze as he added, “Know that We have changed Our plans. Our third son, Shar, is now the Prince Imperial.” Rada blinked as he continued, “Shar will report to you after the nooning to be informed of the status of Our Defenders. You may go, Lord Ni Drako.”
She finished her bow, murmuring, “Thank you, Imperial Majesty.”
Rada had a very light meal and then returned to her work. She was frowning at the recruitment numbers when an orderly scratched on the doorframe. “Lord Defender?” The mammal looked up to see a deferential corporal standing next to two of the royal offspring. “Prince Imperial Shar and Prince Heest, Lord Defender.”
Rada stood as the two siblings entered her office and took seats on the benches in front of her desk. Shar she remembered from earlier encounters when she’d supervised him in the practice salle before he’d gone off to serve with the Imperial Forces. He had an average build, although he was long for his weight and fairly limber in the tail. His common green-brown coloring and grey-green eyes let him blend in well wherever he went, a valuable skill for the third son. Heest, the youngest of the six Imperial offspring, looked around Rada’s office. He was a scholar, she remembered vaguely, and noted his very dark brown hide and pale green eyes.
“Imperial Highness, Prince Heest, how can I be of service?” Rada inquired after sitting back down. Here she was their equal, a point she liked to reinforce whenever possible.
Shar took the initiative. “I assume you are aware that I am now Prince Imperial?” At her nod he looked at Heest, who got up and shut the door. Shar continued “I will be direct, Lord Defender, soldier to soldier. My elder brothers have proven to be more interested in glory than in the work of ruling, and so our Honored Sire has revised the succession. The Healers give him perhaps two moons.” Shar looked down for a moment, then back at his Lord Defender. “Tell me what I need to know about the state of the Defenders. My brother needs to learn better self-defense and about military operations. He’s a good scholar of military history but I want him to understand the why behind what we do so he can advise me better when the time comes.”
Rada’s eyebrows rose a little at the Prince Imperial’s declaration. She looked at Heest, trying to decide how to begin with him, then caught herself; that was the job of her sergeants. “Very well, your Highness. What do you know about the Defenders?” The trio settled in and after an hour or so Rada was satisfied with the princes’ knowledge of current events and the status of the Defenders. They in turn seemed to have had their questions answered and finally Shar gestured for Heest to open the door. As he did, Rada inquired, “Your highness, have you been to the Defense Command Center?”
“No, Lord Ni Drako. I’ve always been more concerned with the Imperials,” Shar reminded her. Heest perked up, curiosity obvious. Then he caught sight of something on a low table at the rear of the cramped office.
“Lord Ni Drako,” he asked a little diffidently, “Who’s that?” and he pointed to a statue.
Rada smiled as she lifted it from its throne-like stand on the velvet-draped table, making sure not to bump the unlit incense sticks behind the stand. She set the obsidian figure down on her desk, then sat back. “You should be able to tell, Prince Heest, since you know history.” The two reptiles studied the black stone figurine, looking closely at the gold slivers used for the pupils of the green-black jade eyes and at the native silver talons.
“That’s Shi-dan?” Heest suggested.
“Correct. It’s the only portrait he ever allowed while he lived,” and she smiled down at the statuette. The sculptor had caught Shi-dan’s controlled power and his scary appearance to perfection. The princes sat back and Rada returned the figure to its place of honor. “If you wish to learn about the challenges of ruling, my lords, his documents and those of his successor Ku-Shkii would be a good place to start,” she observed as they stood and led the way out of her office.
After they finished touring the D.C.C., Prince Shar stopped and looked up at his Lord Defender, rising up onto his hind legs to better study her face. “Lord Ni Drako, how were you injured?”
Might as well tell the truth. She took a deep breath to settle her stomach. “I was tortured, your highness. Someone wanted information I had.”
The two princes exchanged worried glances. “Was it one of our enemies?” Shar demanded.
“No, your highness. It was not at all related to the Empire,” she assured them.
“Good,” Shar dropped back onto all four feet. “Now, let’s see about getting Heest started on weapons work.” The younger prince didn’t look as excited as his older brother sounded and Rada glanced away for a moment to hide her grin. Ah, siblings never change.
The Lord Defender set up the pair with two of the tougher
drill instructors currently working for the Defenders, then finished her paperwork and retreated back to her quarters. When she got there, she found a small bundle bearing the mark of the Mistress of the Robes waiting for her. Inside were five different patches, each on a ribbon or cord of some kind. Rada immediately discarded two as either too large or too small to do the job. She tried on a soft, cushioned selection. It felt nice until she blinked. Then it rubbed on her eyelid and she suspected it might catch on the debris working out of the eye. The second try was better. It was stiff enough to stand away from the eye but didn’t dig her still-tender cheekbone. Rada tied the ribbon and shook her head, trying to dislodge the patch, but it stayed put.
She got up and went back into her sleeping quarters, where she had a small wall mirror. I look ridiculous! No, I look stupid is what I look like, Rada snorted. Anna will and a flash of pain staggered the Lord Defender: she heard the young woman’s laughter in her memory and all the feelings that she had shunted aside crashed down on her again. As Rada tried to get herself back under control, she heard the sound of her business partner sauntering into the main room, her talons scratching the tile floor.
«Anybody home?» the familiar, cheerful alto mind voice called.
“I’m back here, Zabet,” Rada said, adjusting the patch until it fully concealed the remains of her right eye.
«Hullo Pet! How’s Ann... oh fewmets and fumaroles! What happened?» The silvery-blue True-dragon approached slowly, looking rather sick as she stared at her friend.
“Anna’s...” Rada could hardly say it. “She’s dead, Boss. Took her attacker with her, if it’s any consolation.” She sounded harsh, but the pains were too close and bitter for the Wanderer to soften the news. Zabet’s whiskers went rigid, then completely limp, and her tail and round ears drooped while her sapphire eyes bulged in shock.
Fortunately, she knew her friend better than any save one still living and didn’t ask what happened. «Oh Rada! No! Oh, I’m so sorry!» And she came up, curling around her friend and offering comfort and shared sorrow.
“Thanks, silver dancer,” Rada managed around the lump in her throat. “As to what happened to me,” she gestured to her face. “I was tortured. I can’t say any more yet.”
Zabet’s blue eyes held sympathy and sadness and she didn’t say anything, just held her business partner, mourning with her. Finally she released her friend, backing up a little. «Are you going to the estates?»
“Yes, I think I will. I need to mourn and to learn how to fight without seeing anything on this side. The eye is completely gone and Himself and I couldn’t figure out a way to make a prosthetic work. At least not until the bone regrows and stabilizes, so we know what we have to work with,” Ni Drako sighed.
«Weren’t you able to get to your ship’s medical equipment in time?» Zabet asked. «Considering what it’s patched up before, an eye and broken bone seems mild.»
The mammal’s stomach churned at the memory. “It tried. But two things went wrong. First, the computer got confused when it looked at the genetic patterns for reconstruction. Apparently, when I’m in my true shape, my eyes are more Ka’atian than Wanderer and the software rejected the differences and hung up. Second, when it finally did do something, the tissue formed so quickly that it trapped the bone and glass shards inside the eye. At that point the program shut down without trying to rebuild the orbit.”
«Oh ick. That sounds miserable.» The True-dragon sounded queasy and Rada didn’t blame her.
“It feels miserable too, Boss.” Rada agreed. In her mind’s eye she saw her mentor frowning at her for only giving Zabet half of the truth and Rada tried to push the image away, then gave in and acknowledged it.
After hearing her explanation for the equipment’s failure, Master Thomas had observed, “And that system won’t heal what the patient doesn’t want healed, if rumor is correct.” Well, since what I wanted was for it to end my pain by stopping my heart, it’s probably no wonder it wouldn’t completely repair my face, if what he said is true, Rada admitted to herself, very far behind her shields. Then she dragged her thoughts back to the present.
“So, I’m going up to Singing Pines for a while. Care to come along?” she invited her “concubine.”
Zabet considered for a moment. «I think I’ll join you after a day or two. I have some business I need to wrap up. The tiff between the Traders and the Navigators’ Guild flared up again and is slowing shipping outside the Empire, and some items that you contracted for only just arrived, two weeks behind schedule. I’ve got to get them delivered to the buyers.» Zabet left the sleeping quarters as she “spoke” and pulled up the information on the computer for Rada to see.
“Owch, yes! How much are they asking for expedited... by the Bookkeeper’s tally, that’s larceny!” The mammal exclaimed, distracted from her grief for a moment. “Blast it, Boss, you should have called me for the pick up. It would certainly be cheaper.”
«I almost did. But you see who just took over daily operations of that auction house?» A silver talon delicately tapped the computer screen. «Too risky, given how frustrated the tarqina are at the moment. No point in jogging their memory.»
Rada sighed loudly and ran a hand over her plait. “Agreed. You know, someday a tarqi is going to irritate the wrong party and there will be utter hell to pay. They don’t have a monopoly any more.”
«Try telling them that,» the True-dragon snorted. «I outbid a trademistress from da Malnavi for the ceramics and she tried to threaten me.» Zabet smiled sweetly while flexing her talons. «Cute little dragon didn’t play nice,» the reptile snarled as her business partner shook her head.
“She won’t stay trademistress if she keeps misreading competitors that badly.” Three Palace servants appeared with food and tea and Rada waited until they finished and she’d thanked them before continuing. “You know, for a group that is so cutthroat when it comes to business, the Traders certainly are risk averse everywhere else.”
«I most certainly hope you’re not complaining!» Zabet declared as she took her place at the table and served two plates. «According to the current rumor crop, the reason they’ve not been after you recently is because they’re both distracted by the guild mess and reluctant to take you on now, given your reputation.» The reptile ate some of the lightly-sauced fish. «Good dressing.»
“That makes sense. By now I certainly know more physical dirty tricks and weapons techniques than any individual Trader does,” Ni Drako reminded her friend. “I suspect there’s a fair amount of sloth involved as well, especially since I stopped trying to slip into the Meets and Marts. After all, when it comes to cases, only da Kavalle really has a duty to come after me, despite all the hot exhaust the greater Elders’ Council has blown.” She sampled the fish. “This sauce would go well with nutroots, too.”
«You’re not supposed to know about nutroots,» the reptile twitted, then winked.
“And you’re supposed to be a harmless, decorative scatterbrain,” came the riposte, to which Zabet fluttered her whiskers, tipping her head over to the side, and looking as vacuous as deep space.
Rada started to laugh, then froze as she remembered how Anna had imitated Zabet’s acting. The Wanderer choked down the rest of the meal before retreating to her sleeping quarters, wishing again she’d never woken up from the medical procedures. The True-dragon slipped in and stretched out beside her “lord,” draping her tail and head over the grieving mammal.
The next day, wearing stark black clothes and a pink mourning scarf, the daimyo of Singing Pines and Burnt Mountain retreated to “his” estates. The two properties remained the possessions of the King-Emperor, but he allowed Ni Drako to manage them for him (in truth to oversee the Royal Steward who did the real work) and to collect ten percent of the produce and to take ten percent of the hunt. It was an odd arrangement but everyone seemed satisfied. Rada did her best to stay out from under foot while doing her duty by the estate residents and they in turn bragged a little about having Lord Ni D
rako as their daimyo and not one of the more obnoxious nobles. Since the King-Emperor was only present during hunting season, most of the Azdhagi living on the two properties never saw their true manor lord, which suited all parties. Uplanders had always been quite independent, even after the Great Relocation.
Rada spent the first day of her visit in seclusion, letting herself grieve for her adopted child’s death. Then she visited with Sh’eet, the Royal Steward, and got caught up on goings-on at the two properties. Things were not going well despite his efforts and Rada pushed her sorrow away again as she listened to his description of the year’s events. He concluded with, “My lord, there’s something you need to see.”
He went with her down to the grain fields and she studied the problem. Almost half the kurstem, which should have been starting to turn purple-red as it finished maturing, was covered with a white dust and looked withered and thin. Rada sniffed some of the bad grain and wrinkled her nose at the foul smell.
“Has this been spreading to the healthy plants?” She asked, looking over the fields and trying to figure how much had been ruined.
Sh’eet nodded his blocky head, mimicking her. “Slowly, Lord Mammal, but yes. I was going to have the workers cut down the bad and burn it on the river flats, where it won’t spread to what’s left.”
“That sounds like a good plan, but have the workers scrub their tools when they finish, and whatever they use to carry the infected grain, burn it too, so the rest doesn’t get contaminated after harvest,” Rada ordered. “We can’t take any chances.”
Sh’eet frowned as he thought about it. Then he perked up. “We have a number of old sacks that we’ve been using to cover the spring seedlings. They will work, and no great loss if they burn up,” the steward decided. “Yes, that’s perfect, my lord. I’ll have work start tomorrow since the wind is supposed to be calm.”